


No Man is an Island

by Kellybrimbor



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: A little Zemyx, Anxiety, Just give Demyx the break he deserves, Post-KHIII, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, XigDem if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 10:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20673869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellybrimbor/pseuds/Kellybrimbor
Summary: With the end of the Keyblade war and the dispersion of Organization XIII, Demyx, once again, finds himself alone and devoid of purpose. With no place to call home, he reluctantly resorts to knocking on the door of Ansem the Wise, and is suddenly faced with people he hoped never to see again. While teetering on the line between order and chaos, Demyx attempts to bring his life to what it once was, which is proving to be far more difficult than he thought, especially when the memories of the past seem to follow him wherever he goes.





	No Man is an Island

**Author's Note:**

> Demyx is such an interesting character to me, and I wanted to open his story up a bit, seeing how little he's been featured. His personality is like a coin flip, and it was just begging to be explored. 
> 
> This chapter makes references to Aladdin (1992).

Finding the scarab beetle was proving to be more difficult than Demyx had originally thought. It wasn’t as if he had assumed it would be a walk in the park, but it wasn’t until he started looking that the task began to seem like a fool’s errand. 

_ It’s in the sand _ . They had told him.  _ Just find the scarab in the sand. _

And sand it was, long hills of dry desert bleached white that stretched for miles. The horizon swayed strangely in the heat, dancing for the rain like an optical illusion. 

As soon as he stepped from the shadowy corridor, Demyx felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs through a straw. The sun shined directly in his face, making him see spots, and he fumbled for the hood of his coat, trying to pull it over his head before he could catch sight of it again. 

“For Keyblade’s sake…” He muttered under his breath. Thrown to his least favorite world to look for an near-invisible bug. “Is this some sort of punishment?”

He wanted to sit down in the sand and relax or something. The stress from the past few weeks had been eating him up relentlessly, and being thrown into a mission without so much as a day’s notice was seriously irritating. But, it wasn’t like he could talk the bossman out of it. 

Shuffling along the sand, Demyx kept his head down, searching by his feet and watching for anything that picked up the reflection of the light… which was rather difficult because under the streaking sun of Agaraba,  _ everything _ seemed to pick up the sunlight. 

He walked for about twenty minutes in the blistering heat. 

“Where do I even start?” Demyx glanced behind him to look at his fading footsteps over the barren wasteland that stretched as far as the eye could see. “It’s like a flipping needle in a field of hay.”

He began walking again. 

A scarab beetle. A stupid scarab beetle that was supposed to show the entrance to the fabled ‘Cave of Wonders’. How it would do that, Demyx wasn’t sure. It sounded like some urban legend crap that old man Xehanort had come up with, who claimed that the Cave contained age-old research. And why the oh-so wise Ansem was so interested in that man’s work and said research was completely beyond him. 

_ What if they set me up for failure? _ Demyx wondered.  _ Are they really pissed enough that they want me to get lost in this crazy desert? Maybe they’re looking for an excuse to prove I’m incompetent? _ He wet his chapped lips.  _ Well, I suppose I did get benched in the Organization…  _

He stopped, eyes still glued to the ground. There was nothing. Not even a little gleam of scarab beetle-ness. Just dry sand. 

Throat now dry from standing in the sun, Demyx swallowed harshly. His eyeballs felt shriveled up in his skull and he was parched.

For probably the fifty thousandth time, he wished his elemental abilities worked like Axel’s did. Just as that famed flaming fiend could literally summon fire from the palms of his hands, Demyx wished he could produce water from his imagination. 

But no. He had to use a source, like he was filling in a mad lib. He couldn’t just make water out of nothing. And unless he wanted to suck the moisture dry from his already dehydrated body, he’d have to find water elsewhere, seeing as he was surrounded by nothing but dry, dry desert. 

“I swear this was on purpose.” Demyx told himself. “Freaking Ansem.”

Reluctantly, he began to shuffle along the sand again, gazing at the ground beneath his feet with minimal focus and scanning for signs of shine.

* * *

Walking into the city of Agrabah brought back some old memories. Some of them were good memories, like an enjoyable recon mission back under Xemnas's orders. He had so much more leeway then, able to spend his time to get to know the environment, the city, the people, gathering the information he needed all in due time. As long as he got Xemnas what he wanted, there wasn’t much of a problem between him and the Head Honcho, as differently as the other organization members thought. 

Some of those memories, however, weren’t so great. Being dragged along with somebody to track down some stupid heartless, knowing full well that heat would suck him dry like a broken spigot, while being insulted the entire time for slacking off or complaining. 

Of course, that hadn’t been  _ extremely  _ beyond the norm anywhere else. 

The sky was a deep purple by the time he walked into the city through the post-and-lintel gateway. He had given up searching for the scarab beetle when the sun started to sink below the horizon, knowing full well that his efforts wouldn’t suffice. 

_ So, I’m a failure. So what?  _ Demyx thought bitterly.  _ That’s what you wanted to hear, right Even?  _

He closed his eyes for a minute to calm his composure, taking a deep breath, or maybe two or three, and headed into the town.

Despite the late hours, the streets were still busy, people traveling up and down the thin pathways around the evening bazaar. Small carts and tents were parked by the sides of the road, each set up with their own little display. 

Walking down the market was a like a world in itself. Each stall was its own territory with its own product, with each seller displaying their own merchandise with pride. 

“Fresh bread!” Someone called out, waving at him. “Get your freshly baked bread straight from the hearth!”

“How about a cold drink for you?” A tall, thin stick of a man waved a darkly colored bottle by his face. “I’ve got arak, sake, wine; your pick!”

Within the crowd, a small hand grabbed onto Demyx’s sleeve, belonging to a short, bearded peddler wearing a white turban.

“You look like someone of good taste.” The man pulled him up by a short market stall covered in many strange knick-knacks and oddities. “Can I interest you in some rare trinkets?”

Usually, Demyx would have declined, content with window shopping and basking in the brightly-colored environment, but…

_ Maybe he’s got something relating to that dumb scarab. _

Demyx rested on forearm on the stall counter and flashed an intrigued smile. 

“Indulge me.” He said. 

A glint of excitement lit the man’s eyes, and perhaps even mischief, and he grabbed the closest thing on the counter to hold up. 

“Behold!” He presented a long jade-green scarf in his hands. “A unique sash once worn by the famed Princess Jasmine, tied along her head as an exquisite headscarf.”

Demyx raised an eyebrow, flipping his gaze from the scarf and back at the peddler. It looked identical to the hijab the woman at the bread stand was wearing. 

The peddler seemed to sense his doubt, and casually brushed the scarf aside, sending it fluttering behind the counter out of sight. The merchant scrambled for something else, trying to keep Demyx’s attention. 

“How about this?” The man produced a short clay pot, painted a burgundy red with black swirls. “One of the fabled urns found from an old civilization from distant lands. When discovered, the others had perished, but this one had survived the treacherous brawls of the Thieves Quarters, finding its way into the hands of royalty-”

“It’s got a crack in it.” Demyx pointed to a long jagged slit in the side, leading to a chip on the rim. 

“Well, would you look at that!” The peddler seemed surprised, and hastily tossed it over his shoulder, as if making it disappear would make Demyx forget about it. “ I see you have a keen eye…”

Fumbling around a third time, he then presented a set of earrings, gold rimmed and embedded with teal stones. “How about these then? Perhaps it’ll make a nice gift for a special someone?”

Demyx took a solid look at them. He wasn’t much of a jewelry person and certainly not keen to wear anything flashy, but he did enjoy the occasional set of earrings. There  _ were _ a bit extravagant though…

_ What would I do with them? It’s not like I have any friends to give them to. _

“Not interested.” He decided.

“You sure?” The merchant noticed his hesitation and swung them back and forth a bit, allowing the teal gems to dangle in front of his face. “They bring out those eyes of yours, you know.”

Demyx pondered for a minute, before caving in. 

“Alright, I’ll take ‘em.” He said.  _ If nothing else, they’ll make some good sitar picks. Or maybe something to poke Even’s eye out with.  _ “I’ll give you 30 munny for them.”

The peddler looked a bit hesitant about the offered price, but he could also tell that Demyx was still on-the-fence about buying them, and knew that pushing the price any higher would lose him a customer.

“Alright, then. Pay up, young man.”

As he pulled out his leather wallet from the breast pocket inside his coat, Demyx jumped on the opportunity now that the peddler was no longer talking. 

“You ever heard of a golden scarab beetle?” He asked casually. 

The peddler slipped the earrings inside of a cloth pouch and patted the table for the money.

“Are you referring to any old scarab beetle, or…” He wiggled his fingers dramatically as if to add effect. “The legendary ‘Cave of Wonders’ scarab beetle.”

“Let’s go with that one.” Demyx placed the munny on the counter and watched it slid under the peddler’s hands. He picked up the cloth pouch and his wallet, and stashed them away, sharply zipping his coat back up with a swift movement.

“Who’s asking?” The peddler asked slyly. His dark eyes narrowed. “You a thrill seeker?”

“Of sorts. On behalf of someone else.”

“A sellsword, huh?” The man pulled on his beard thoughtfully. “Or a sort of hireling?”

Demyx shrugged. It was probably best to keep his mission somewhat under wraps when speaking to a merchant who had full access to the grapevine and the ears of anyone willing to listen.

“It’s a new job.” Demyx said, picking at a loose thread at on the cuff of his sleeve. “Bossman didn’t give me much to go off of and left me to my own devices.”

The peddler nodded a few times, the white turban on his head bobbing back and forth. 

“Well, most everyone is Agrabah knows the basics of it, but as a travelling merchant, I’ve done some digging around…” He rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together to convey his point. “But, those extra details might cost ya…”

_ Of course. Nothing in Agrabah comes for free, I guess. _

“Alright then.” Demyx pursed his lips. “I’ll pay you according to your intel.”

The peddler, seeming satisfied, leaned over the counter, like he was going to whisper a secret. 

“So, this special Golden Scarab Beetle is said to reveal the entrance to the mystical Cave of Wonders. That’s the general idea, but there are a couple of  _ specifications. _ ” He hooked his fingers together and rested his chin on the back of his hands, placing the weight on his elbows. “Because if you’re just looking for it in the sand, you’re not going to find anything.”

“Care to enlighten me?” 

The peddler waved his hand dismissively before returning it under his chin. 

“Well, the beetle is actually in two separate pieces. You need both to find the cave.”

Demyx bit the inside of his cheek. This was far more complicated than Ansem had let on when he’d been sent out. The information he was provided was miniscule and vague, and by now, he was absolutely sure that he’d been sent out to fail. 

“Do you know where they are?” He pressed. 

“That’s what makes it difficult.” The peddler grinned. “The beetle has already been found.”

Demyx paused. 

“Why does that make it more difficult? Shouldn’t it be more simple then, if both of the pieces are inact?”

He received a violent head shake in response. 

“You’d be better off if they weren’t.” He said. “The person who currently holds the beetle is the Grand Vizier, Jafar, the Sultan’s most trusted advisor.”

“Jafar, huh?”

Demyx rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So, the beetle had already been found and was being kept by an authoritative figure… The name sounded somewhat familiar, but he was sure he hadn’t heard it more than from a few passing conversations during recon missions. 

“Oh, yes!” The peddler went on, growing animated. “Nasty man, he is. Power-hungry, cunning as a snake, and has the wickedest smile you’ll ever see. The only reason I know he’s gotten a hold of it is because I saw him try to nab some kid the other day to go inside the cave for him.”

“Why can’t he go in himself?”

The peddler twisted his curled beard around his pointer finger and the corner of his mouth tightened. 

“That might cost ya a little extra. See, it’s a bit-”

“I can always go find someone else to tell me.” Demyx cut in peevishly. He had no intention of having his budget diminished more than it already was. “After all, you said most people know about the beetle-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” The peddler flapped his hands to catch his attention. “Impatient, are we?” He huffed a sharp sigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but you didn’t hear it from me, got it?”

“Alright.”

He glanced around for a second as if to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping, and after looking satisfied, leaned in closer. 

“The Cave of Wonders is a forbidden realm that supposably holds vasts amount of treasures. It’s guarded by a spirit who’s very particular about those who enter.” 

Demyx puckered his lips in disbelief. 

“Really?”

The peddler nodded earnestly. 

“The spirit only lets certain people enter, those he deems worthy. A sort of ‘diamond in the rough’, you might say.”

“So, no rich people?” Demyx asked jokingly. 

“Anyone whose worth lies within.”

He leaned back and folded his arms with suspicion. 

“Huh. Right. So, what happens if Jafar walks in? Does he explode or something?”

“Dunno.” The peddler straightened and gestured with his hand. “That’s all I really know. Now, pay me what I owe and I’ll keep this between you and me.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t think Jafar would be too happy knowing someone else is after his precious beetle.”

Demyx relented, realizing he wouldn’t be able to get more information and fished out a few coins. 

“Thank you for your time.” He said. 

“Of course, of course.” The man slipped the munny into his long blue sleeve and displayed his best sale-man smile. “Come again if you feel like it! I’ve got lots more things in stock. I’m having a sale next week.”

Demyx gave him a nod of acknowledgement and began his way back down the marketplace, shouldering through the clusters of people away from the stalls. 

_ So, Ansem duped me for a dumb errand _ . Demyx exited the bazaar, and turned down another street, this one much calmer in the late hours.  _ And he wants something from that stupid cave.  _ He smiled to himself.  _ I wonder if he’d get blown up if he walked inside.  _

To be honest, Demyx didn’t really believe that last part, about only special people getting to go inside. But it  _ was _ kind of funny to imagine Ansem being cheated out of his schemes because he wasn’t deemed worthy or something. And if, for whatever reason, it did turn out to be true, Demyx could always come back with the news that he wasn’t the man for the job, and that Ansem would have to do it himself. 

_ As long as they don’t decide I’m completely useless and kick me out… _ Demyx thought. 

He continued walking and passed a couple of adobe brick buildings and tents until he found what he was looking for- a cluster of wooden barrels in between two stone buildings, like a small alleyway. 

Pushing a couple of the barrels aside, Demyx plopped on the ground, making a spot for himself to lay down. He’d found this little nook during a long recon mission, and used it as a spot to sleep, finding it was usually undisturbed and out of sight. 

“Maybe tomorrow, I’ll after track down Jafar.” He muttered to himself. “Or sneak around his fancy castle or something.” He paused, suddenly in realization that he had no idea what either the beetle, or Jafar himself looked like. “Or maybe I’ll do some more research.”

Frustrated, Demyx unzipped his coat and removed it, wincing as he pulled the leather away from his skin. Walking around in the sun earlier in the day had proved to make it sticky with sweat and it certainly wasn’t meant for such heat. 

Bundling his coat up for a makeshift pillow and placing it on the ground behind a barrel, he dropped his head on it with an irritated sigh and laid down on the stone ground. 

“Watch yourself, Ansem.” Demyx whispered. “I’m going to slap your face with that beetle when I find it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm reluctant to continue posting this story, mostly because as I've been working on it, I've begun to realize this is going to be a much bigger project than I had originally planned.   
You could say this chapter is a 'Pilot' of sorts.   
Thanks for the read.


End file.
